Tears are Timeless

Dear Child of Mine, 

Grown ups cry too.

THERE. I said it.

When I was a kid, I had this vague notion that adults just didn't cry unless they were at a funeral. But that's just not true.

Exhibit A: Your mom is out in the storage room and boxes are falling and she is getting extremely frustrated. In her mounting frustration, she stands up quickly to take a breather and proceeds to smash the top of her head into the low-hanging, angled ceiling. Tears were everywhere. Your Dad heard the dull THUD of the accident and came to her rescue.

I know that the range of emotion expressed by adults is much more varied than when we were children. Not all grown ups cry when they stub their toe or watch a touching film or see their loved one for the first time in months. But I just want you to know that I cry, and while you don't need to be privy to every up and down in your mama's life, I want you to know it's okay if you see me crying. Don't be scared or alarmed. Be comforted, knowing I'm human. My feelings still get hurt. My struggle with selfishness and anger still rears its ugly head. And sometimes I just can't handle the pain (physical or emotional) like you may think a grown up should.

But I'll cry with you, too. And maybe sometime, having that instinctual sensitivity that only children possess, you'll crawl up in my tear-filled lap and hold me.

Love,
Mama





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The Harmony-Seeking Idealist

Dear Child of Mine,

I can't wait to meet you and discover how unique your personality is, while at the same time find the shadows you share with your dad and me.

I am always intrigued by personality tests. Perhaps this shows a deeper need to know myself and become more aware of my strengths and struggles. Maybe it's because I wonder if and how I am changing over time. Or maybe I am just plain entertained by the results.

Recently, on a recommendation of a few friends, I took a personality test at http://www.ipersonic.com/. The results were quite accurate, and for posterity sake I thought I would share them with you. I am hoping this will give you a bit of insight into my life, helping you understand my quirks and my priorities.

I thought a photo-in-the-mirror was apropos

Harmony-seeking Idealists are characterized by a complex personality and an abundance of thoughts and feelings (an "abundance" is an understatement). They are warm-hearted persons by nature. They are sympathetic and understanding (Kevin calls me his "little empath"). Harmony-seeking Idealists expect a lot of themselves and of others. They have a strong understanding of human nature and are often very good judges of character (why, thank you). 

But they are mostly reserved and confide their thoughts and feelings to very few people they trust. They are deeply hurt by rejection or criticism (all too true.) Harmony-seeking Idealists find conflict situations unpleasant and prefer harmonious relationships. However, if reaching a certain target is very important to them they can assert themselves with a doggedness bordering on obstinacy (who me? obstinate?! never.).

Harmony-seeking Idealists have a lively fantasy, often an almost clairvoyant intuition and are often very creative. Once they have tackled a project, they do everything in their power to achieve their goals. In everyday life, they often prove to be excellent problem solvers. They like to get to the root of things and have a natural curiosity and a thirst for knowledge (I was the kid reading every word on the cereal box). At the same time, they are practically oriented, well organised and in a position to tackle complex situations in a structured and carefully considered manner (me to a T). When they concentrate on something, they do so one hundred percent - they often become so immersed in a task that they forget everything else around them. That is the secret of their often very large professional success (at first I wrote this off, but I suppose my piano studio is considered a "professional success:" jumping from 0 to 29 students in 2 years in a brand new community). 

As partners, harmony-seeking idealists are loyal and reliable; a permanent relationship is very important to them (very important). They seldom fall in love head over heels nor do they like quick affairs. They sometimes find it very difficult to clearly show their affection although their feelings are deep and sincere. In as far as their circle of friends is concerned, their motto is: less is more! As far as new contacts are concerned, they are approachable to only a limited extent; they prefer to put their energy into just a few, close friendships (This is definitely true. I connect well with many people, but my inner circle is small). Their demands on friends and partners are very high (sorry, friends). As they do not like conflicts, they hesitate for some time before raising unsatisfactory issues and, when they do, they make every effort not to hurt anyone as a result (check, check).

CareerAs a Harmony-seeking Idealist you are one of the introverted personality types (I may be talkative and good in front of people, but I seek quiet, not crowds). Therefore you prefer a quiet work environment where you can intensively deal with your responsibilities and are not disturbed by too many people and repeated distractions (uggg, distractions...). You need a lot of time to dwell on your thoughts, to put them into words and let your ideas take shape (a lot of time).

You are grateful for a certain measure of order and structure in order to achieve this, and being able to deal with one project after the other, thus not having a number of responsibilities at one time. You don’t like being overloaded because it is important to you to deal with things thoroughly. Your capability to concentrate is unusually great and very often you become engrossed in something and forget everything around you.

You are one of the feeler types (*cough cough*). This fact is partially the reason that you have a very strong insight into human nature and enjoy dealing with people. You are interested in the people around you and have a real sense for their motivations, needs and abilities. Your talent to see the best in everybody and your keen wish to understand others and somehow contribute to their well-being predestine you to work with people. (This paragraph accurate accounts for my youth ministry passion).

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Due to your propensity to be introverted you are not into holding major speeches for large audiences. Your real strength lies in working individually with people like therapists, physicians or priests (true story). In those professions, when advancing others in their personal development or to help them in any other way is the issue, you are unbeatable (unbeatable, eh? Well, thanks).

You are extremely sensitive, and your social competences are developed above average. As a result you have no problems working with people or being a team member. Still, you should watch out to primarily surround yourself with persons who are similarly profound and eclectic. During the working day you abhor thoughtless, superficial, and insensitive colleagues.

There you have it. Your Mama in a nutshell.


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Finding Humor in our Conception Struggles

Dear Child of Mine,

I have to be honest with you. While the issue of infertility is very painful, and our desire to have you is very real, sometimes I switch things up and lighten the mood. I'm sure I throw people off by the things I am able to joke about. But I figure laughter really is good for the heart, and I shouldn't take myself (or my problems) too seriously. 

Our friends, Randy and Sheryl, have a quilt on their couch that was made for them years ago (four kids ago) by a lady who described it as a "fertility quilt." (Obviously the quilt worked for them!) This concept has always struck me as funny, but every once and a while when we're visiting together, I really get the giggles about this quilt. When Sheryl asked me if I'd like a blanket, I looked at Kevin and said, "BRING ON THE FERTILITY QUILT!" Yes, we were all laughing!

Then, the other night I gathered in the church library with 5 other church leaders, including your dad, in a meeting to discuss plans for the Christmas Eve services and holiday decorating strategies. I arrived at the meeting 10 minutes late because I had to speed walk (literally) from my piano studio after 4 hours of lessons, and then I would be heading straight from this meeting to my Wednesday night vespers gathering. All good things, but bam, bam, bam, one right after the other.

By the end of the meeting I was getting a little slap happy. (This happens to your mother when she's low on energy, sleep, and/or patience. I figure it's better alternative grumpiness.) After we closed in prayer (as every good church meeting does), I happened to catch a glance of this book on the shelf behind me:

Without thinking, I blurted out for the whole group to hear -

"This book is titled Making Children Mind Without Losing Yours, but I TOTALLY thought it said Making Children Without Losing Your Mind."

Everyone erupted in laughter, with expressions of slight shock and a teeny bit of embarrassment thrown in. Had the title of the book really been Making Children Without Losing Your Mind it would have been incredibly appropriate for your dad and I. Oh the satire was just too rich!

I share this story so that you know I'm not always uptight. I'm not always super spiritual. I'm not always thinking critically. Sometimes I'm just plain ridiculous.

I hope you'll appreciate my oddities as much as your dad does (most of the time.)

Love,
Your Mama



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Pushing 30

...or at least that's what I've been telling myself for the past many months. I turned 28 on November 19th and this past year is the first time I've ever "felt" my age. There are days I look at the veins on the backs of my legs and think, "How did this happen?" Whenever I brush my teeth, I have to use lukewarm, yes LUKWARM water. I distinctly remember questioning my mother's need to use anything other than ice cold water because of her teeth's sensitivity. And what am I dealing with now? Extremely sensitive teeth. I have never had trouble healing from cuts or bruises, but now it takes MONTHS to completely heal and even then I have very obvious scars like never before.

My poor body just isn't what it used to be. In many ways I am shocked at how quickly things have changed. But most of the time I'm thankful for the growth that comes with experience (and apparently crazy leg veins. I refuse to utter the words, "spider veins.")

Kevin and Melanie Eccles || Cliff, Tara, Catherine, Jacob and Sarah Thom ||
Randy, Sheryl, Ashlyn, Brendan (not pictured), Madison and Jillian LeBaron

This particular "birthday party" evolved from a simple dinner invitation. I wanted to make an early birthday dessert to share and then I asked if I could invite more friends. Before I knew it I had planned my own party. Oh well. Thanks, friends, for not razzing me about it (*cough cough* except for Randy. ;)). It was fun being in a house full of awesome kids who made me their own special birthday cards, eating a delicious pot roast dinner together, indulging in my favorite sweets without the guilt, and laughing hysterically during a rowdy game of Apples to Apples. You people get me.

Even beyond the food and gifts, I was deeply grateful to spend my birthday celebration with some dear friends and their families. I love that age differences no longer keep girls from being best friends. (Thank you both for loving me and listening to me and sharing with me, with no consideration of my age. I respect you, admire you, trust you, and value you.)

Tara, Sheryl, Mel

Dear Child of Mine, 

I hope you can join in the fun soon! (Also, I'm only getting older. You're going to have to peel me off the floor if you wait much longer.) I promise that you're going to be so loved by these people and so many more. 

Waiting for you, 

Mama



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The Husband of a Runner

If you've read the updated version of the blog's "About K & M" page, you will know two facts - 

a) I am a runner.

b) Kevin is not. Despite my greatest wishes. 

For as long as we've been a couple (going on nine years!), one of my biggest hopes is that Kevin would become my running partner. Typically, about once a year, I catch him on a good day and he agrees to run with me. This run normally ends after about 10 minutes - me soaring with glee, and him being frustrated that he's not in the same fitness bracket as I am. Understandable. 

I never give up asking (mostly because he's told me it doesn't hurt to ask, just don't nag). Every month or two, I say, "Will you come on a run with me today?" And he inevitably responds with, "No." If there is even the slightest hesitation on his part, I latch on with the most unreasonable amount of excitement only to be let down shortly thereafter, when he admits he was never considering it to begin with. 

Last fall he endeavored to start down the path of overall health and fitness. On his own volition we bought him a pair of minimalist New Balance shoes and my parents gifted him some UnderArmour pants for Christmas. He was faithful for a month, getting up before dawn two or three mornings a week and heading out for a mile or two all on his own. (You see, we finally figured out that he needed to work through this without my coaching or exaggerated thrill.) But then the weather changed and the runner* came to a screeching halt. 

*him not me. I have run all winter thankyouverymuch. 

And now it's time for the new session of our church's Run for God program to begin. (You may remember my stories from last year - Fairy Running and the Strawberry Race.) I talked with Kevin about the possibility of becoming the ambassador/coach/recruiter of teenagers for this program, hoping to grow the number of students involved. He jumped on board to my complete and utter amazement, saying that is the only way he'd want to participate--as a co-leader for the teens. He would be the newbie ("If I can do this you can do this") leader and I would be the veteran. 

I hadn't broached the subject with him after this initial interaction. You see, this subject is a fragile one, a tight rope walk, waiting for my own wrong move to push him off the oh-so-narrow bandwagon.

But then this happened: 

I'm going to leave my excitement unstated. You'll just have to imagine how I'm feeling about my husband running. 

The program starts this Sunday! Wish us luck!! 

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Bringing "Hostess" to a Different Level

Sometimes I feel like I'm not really an adult because 90% of my life is spent with teenagers. And quite frankly, dear friends, I love it that way. It's hard not to compare my life to other adult friends, to see how many real-live-grown-ups they have over for dinner on a regular basis. I convince myself that I'm missing the mark. After all, we don't have adults over very often - definitely not as often as a ministry couple should. 

Or should we? 

Who am I to try to rearrange the life God has called me to live? The one where I have 12 teenagers over for 2 hours every Monday afternoon, for a thing called Book Club, but where it becomes a time to laugh and love and be together. Or the one where I look forward to my Thursday nights, when a group of 5 dear high school girls cozy up on my couches, drink tea together, and share the deeper aspects of life as a godly girl. Or the spur of the moment mornings when we invite the whole slew of teens to come over for pancakes. Or how every Sunday morning, right after church, I fly out the door to unlock my house so our teen Sunday School class can pile in and enjoy learning and eating and listening in a more comfortable environment? (My house is NOT big people. It's actually quite tiny. But I've had as many 18 teens squeeze into the living room and dining room.) Oh, right! And every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons I have student after student (and sometimes their friends and a lot of times their families) filing in and out of my living room for piano lessons. And let me tell you that my job as a piano teacher is SO MUCH MORE than a job. It's a joy, a ministry. 

Am I more comfortable hosting teenagers in my home than adults? Yes. Does that mean I'm behind in my duty as pastor's wife? No. Am I strange for having honest-to-goodness inhibitions about having "grown ups" over versus teens? Perhaps. Do I need to get over that? Maybe. 

But I'm gonna go ahead and say with absolute freedom and conviction that I am proudly fulfilling the role Christ has called me to - which, for now, is ministering to teenagers. And call me crazy, but I love 'em. 

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Being a Fish Doesn't Make Me a Swimmer

I finally got around to doing what I've been thinking about doing for at least a year -- swimming laps. 

credit

Apparently the Lord knew it was time for a good humbling, because man 'o man I am not good at swimming. Being in the pool is never something I crave. I don't seek out hotels with pools nor do I wish I had a house with an fancy pants swimming pool in the back yard. Growing up, I enjoyed my share of swimming in Lake Erie and jumping in my friends' pool on a blazing hot summer day, but unless it's a million degrees outside and water will provide relief, I'd rather just sit poolside, dipping my feet in every now and again. 

The local middle school has a pool that they open from 5:30-7:20 every morning for adult lap swim (along with a few evenings a week for community family fun swims.) For many months I've been contemplating adding swimming to my morning workout rotation, but I just couldn't get up the motivation (or perhaps the courage) to go. It costs $30 for a 6 month membership which is pretty much nothing, so money wasn't the issue. 

I am a runner. Running has become a workout I enjoy, something I am good at. It's not easy, but it is natural for me. I intersperse my running with one of my 12 (yes 12) different Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper workout DVDs which provide good variety and strength training. I consider myself in good shape. I am strong, I have toned arms and legs. I feel pretty good about myself. 

Which is why I DIDN'T want to swim. 

I knew that lap swimming would be terribly difficult for me. And quite frankly, I just don't like to do things I'm not going to be good at. I don't like being embarrassed and I don't like trying something new if there's all these other things over here that I'm already good at. Last summer it was biking - another sport I'm not good at. But biking 10 miles a few days a week really improved my running skills. Hence my thought process that swimming may have the same affect.

The alarm went off at 6am, and as if by magic (or more likely, the Lord's prompting) I was awake and motivated. I threw on my suit and headed out the door for the school. (Luckily it's 0.7 miles from my house.) The lifeguard told me I could try it out for a few days before paying the membership fee. (cool.)

What happened next was completely expected, yet shocking. I am a terrible swimmer. After watching the swim team girls compete yesterday, I have a brand new respect for their ability and an unavoidable reality of my inability. It took me about a minute and fifteen seconds to do 2 laps (whereas it took the swimmers about a quarter that.) I had to stop to catch my breath every 2 laps. Another embarrassment, especially because the older and more overweight individuals were lapping me left and right. 

My heart rate was soaring near 170 beats per minute, and I was gasping for air like a fish out of water. (Ironic if you know my maiden name and how unnatural swimming is for me.) I have no idea how many laps I swam; I didn't want to keep track and embarrass myself further. I just wanted to get out there and try something new, something difficult. 

And so, with unbelievably sore arms and a decidedly smaller ego, I can say, "I did it!" Let's see if this lasts. 

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Does Giving Birth Make a Girl a Woman?

I had gathered with a large number of wonderful ladies and we were going around introducing ourselves. As part of the "about me" sentence, it was suggested that we share how many children we have and how old they are. Of all the women in the room (some younger than me), I was the only one childless. I held it together, but that moment of "I'm Melanie, and I don't have have any children" was raw and painful and even embarrassing. Did I belong?

Later that day, one of my friends, knowing my struggle, pondered, "When did our children become our identity?" A good question, indeed. 

For years now, I have wondered if I would ever been seen as a grown woman--adult, independent, responsible, able. I look young for my age (as in I am mistaken for a teenager on a weekly basis), so this doesn't help my case. But I have been on my own for nearly 10 years. Four and a half of those, I have been married, and together we've maintained a home, jobs, and a bank account. But I still feel like an "outsider" so often. 

So much of women's conversation revolves around their children; and for a good reason. I understand that being a mother does become much of a woman's identity and that her love for her babies is unmatched. But I can't participate in those discussions. I smile, of course, and I truly do enjoy hearing about my friends' children. I love playing with their kids, being called "My Melanie" by those little ones who love me dearly, seeing photo updates of their growth and reading stories of hilarious antics. 

But, no matter how welcoming my friends are & no matter how much I love being with them and their children, nothing can offer me entrance into the sacred club of motherhood other than a child of my own. 

And so, I remain the babysitter, the onlooker, the dreamer. 

How can I change the world's perception of me? Can I be a woman--fully alive, not lacking purpose-- even if I never have children? You might say, "But of course I see you as a peer, Melanie, as a friend." But there's nothing either of us can do to change the gap that exists. 

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Another Year Before Testing

Continued from Wednesday's post.


...And for the next 12 months, the lab requisitions stayed at the bottom of our metaphorical pile. We were in a new state, trying to make new friends, living with no health insurance. As upset as I was that we weren't conceiving, beginning the hunt for a good doctor, then paying for tests and treatments, and dealing with medical expenses and painful rigmarole just didn't seem feasible. In fact, it seemed insurmountable. 

Some friends couldn't understand how we were putting off this decision. Why wait to get some simple lab work done? What if it's a simple fix? I could totally understand their questions. I had similar thoughts floating around my brain. 

It was becoming clear that for as much as I wanted to start our family, or even just to know if it was going to be possible, we were becoming more and more content with how thing were. Just us. No strings attached. And I think there is a fear that still lingers--fear of the unknown, how things will change, what will be given up. Answers we can't know until that precious moment is granted us. 

But soon I realized I needed to have my yearly gyn appointment, at the very least. I did some asking around for names of doctors and finally settled on an office. I made my appointment, not knowing if I had made the right choice in a physician or not. When I left the exam room that day, I said, "That was the BEST doctor's appointment I have ever had." The exam only took 10 minutes, but she sat down and talked to me for at least 45 minutes more, finding out our story and talking about possible fertility solutions. She gave me laboratory requisitions--one for me, one for Kevin--with instructions on which hospitals to call. Additionally, she wrote a request for an HSG Fluoroscopy, a pricey procedure that was optional but would give us great insights into the workings of my organs. 

In true Kevin-and-Mel form, we put these procedures off, but only for a month this time. Both of us got our lab work done--with no questionable results to concern us. Yay! We knew we couldn't afford to get the  fluoroscopy procedure done at this point, so we were blessed beyond belief when a loved one offered to pay for the $800 x-ray. After a 15 minute procedure that was much quicker and MUCH MORE painful than I had anticipated, we already had our answers--my insides looked A-ok. 

Our wonderful doctor called me the next week to follow up on the exam results and, in doing so, ended up saving us the $100 office visit fee. Another gift! She said there were no issues with any of our tests so to give it two more months and come back for a follow-up if we hadn't yet conceived. 

Which brings us to the present. 

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read more about our journey through infertility. 

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The "Quick Fix" I Didn't Take

Can I just say what an amazing blessing it has been to finally talk about the "elephant" in my room? It's relief to not feel like I have to hide something, yes. But much beyond that, the outpouring of love, encouragement, and shared stories have been unexpected and beautiful. Thank you for being a friend. 

Proverbs 17:17

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.

There are many paths a couple can take when they're faced with infertility. Tests, bloodwork, temperature readings, exams, referrals, pills, injections, and the list goes on. Here is how our journey started.

Six months into TTC* I was getting a little concerned and mentioned something to my Ob/Gyn at my yearly exam. He assured me there wasn't anything to be concerned about; we were young and in good health. "Give it six more months and if you still haven't conceived at the year mark, come back and see me." As you know, the one year came around with no prospects of a baby, and back to the doctor I went. Unfortunately for me, he was at the hospital delivering someone else's baby (the nerve!) and I was going to see the nurse practitioner. 

*trying to conceive

Now, here's the thing. I have absolutely nothing against Nurse Practitioners. In fact, I rather like them. But this appointment was a BIG DEAL for me. I had officially crossed over the medical line into infertility. I wanted answers, guidance,  help, and most importantly someone who knew me and my story. This woman came in, heard my brief synopsis, looked over my ovulation tracker, deemed me "ovulatory" (a good thing) and then proceeded to write up a lab request for anovulation and a prescription for Clomid (pill for anovulation.)  Something just didn't add up! She wanted to give me a quick fix (for a problem it didn't appear I had) with a pill that has been known for crazy side effects (namely hormonal, but also risk for multiples). Between that uneasy feeling in my gut (this just doesn't seem right, Mel) and the fact we were packing up and moving our lives 3 states away just one month later, the paperwork was pushed to the bottom of the pile...

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Coming to Grips: August 2011

If this is the first time you've been to our blog (or if it's a been a while), let me say welcome. Pull up a chair, bring a mug of your favorite tea, and join us. Right now we are in the middle of sharing a very personal struggle. For the first time ever, we are publicly sharing the details of our on-going journey through infertility. Please feel free to read these previous posts before continuing.

31 Month Confession 

Journal Entry at the 12th Month

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Before we move to present struggles, glorious victories, and what in the world we've been doing to "treat" this for the past 2 years, here is a slightly-gut-wrenching journal entry I wrote almost a year and a half ago.

august 27, 2011

So much pain poured out in my prayer journal this morning. It was welling up inside of me--anxiety, hurt, fear--and it came flowing out in tears. 

Oh, God! Why are my insides pulling part, churning, convulsing? You are so, so good to me. And I don't know where this anxiety came from, Jesus. Give me clarity. Show me your peace. So much tension is welling up inside of me, God. 

What if we never have a baby? That is becoming more and more a reality to me. and my heart breaks. I am at a loss for words, tears streaming down my face. Feeling alone, like no one can really understand. "Just wait," they say, "It'll happen in God's time." Why do they lie to me, Father? They make up niceties to tickle my ears and give me a false sense of peace. But nothing says you will give me a child. NOTHING. 

2010. June. July. August. September. October. November. December. 2011. January. February. March. April. May. June. July. August. 

That's 15 months, God. And my hope is fading. Yesterday, I ordered a necklace form Lisa Leonard Designs with a gift card I won. I had been waiting and waiting to order one with ours and our baby's initials on it. But it has occurred to me, in a very real way, that this day might not ever come. Or, at the very least, I shouldn't sit and wait for it to happen. Because it might not. And what are we to do? Do we get tested? When? And then what?

Could it be this is what you have for us? Life together, without babies of our own?

And now that I ordered the necklace I feel it releases me to live my life without planning around a little one who may or may not ever be. A job--is this what you have for me? Saving for who knows what?--a house, but why? a car? missions? vacations? adoption? 

In any case, it doesn't matter. I can't sit hear, twiddling my thumbs, waiting and hoping and praying and putting all my stock in my plans to be a mother. What if I'm never a mom--like I have always dreamed I would be? What if I never get to push that beautiful red stroller or use those adorable onesies that I started buying over a year ago at garage sales. It made sense then. We were going to start trying. We were going to get pregnant. I might as well start preparing.

But I was so, so wrong. And all of that was wasted. How could I ever let myself get so wrapped up in a hope, a dream? Assumption. Expectation. 

But you never promised this. You only promised to be there, be HERE with me. Through the pain. Into the unknown. Transforming into beauty. 

Be here now, God. 

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Journal Entry at the 12th Month

God has been working wonders in my heart over the past two years as we've journeyed down the road of infertility, and I can't wait to share his goodness with you. But let's back up the story and visit something I wrote June 9, 2011 (a year and a half ago), when my heart was raw and aching after crossing that 12th month, you're-officially-considered-medically-infertile marker.

Tuesday, June 7th marked the 12th month of unsuccessful pregnancy attempts. Back in June 2010, Kevin was totally on board with the issue, but he wasn't REALLY looking forward to the prospect of reproducing until the New Year. I know he would have been totally stoked about any pregnancy, but it wasn't a deep desire for him until the last few months.  

I, on the other hand, have been longing for this time in life for years. I can remember playing "house" as a girl and wanting to be a mommy so badly. For many years, maybe even until I started dating Kevin, I thought the reason to get married was to HAVE kids--babies were the point, right? I have realized in the past 3 years of marriage, that babies are most certainly NOT the point of marriage.  

Children are going to be an enormous blessing--something we're going to be more thankful now than if we'd gotten pregnant lickity split.  

Children are an incredible responsibility--something I don't think we're ready for and never will be.

Children are an important form of obedience to God's creation command to "fill the earth"--and they will be our most important contributions to the Body of Christ. 

My heart so deeply desires children. The passion has grown and strengthened since we were first married and now, that's it taken so long and we've not gotten pregnant, there is a fear. What if this never happens to me? What if I'm that woman who is barren? What if I'm Hannah? 

We both thought it would be easy to get pregnant--that as soon as we decided to try, we'd conceive. Not. so. much. And all around us, our friends are getting pregnant and having babies. I could count 20 or 30 friends our age who have conceived and given birth since we started trying. And NONE OF THEM knew what we were going through. (We hadn't not told anyone but closest friends and family that we were trying.) We're extremely excited for each of them. But there's a pain in my heart every time I see someone else announce their good news.

But I have to come to terms (at least for today) with the fact that God is IN CONTROL--NOT ME. His timing and His planning is perfect. He knew the last 12 months of extended one-on-one marriage would be extremely important to our growth and maturity. We're going to be better parents because of it. He knew we'd be moving to New York, uprooting ourselves, starting seminary, becoming involved in a new church, finding our feet all over again. He knows what's down the road, that I can't possibly anticipate. He is SO GOOD. 

He gives and He takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

And now we wait, we pray, we seek guidance (from friends and family who've been there.) 

I remember very vividly the emotions I felt as we went into New Years Day 2011, then again in June. These present days are much less raw, with tears being shed only every month or two. I have come to expect to not be pregnant, so my hopes aren't dashed nearly as frequently. But there are days, here and there, where my heart is heavy and the tears come. And that's ok too.

The struggle now is finding the balance between maintaining a true and Christ-like hope in this deep desire of mine without letting it become an expectation, something my world revolves around. My heart has released, more and more, the idea that children will somehow complete me, make me the woman I was meant to be. Only GOD, in all his goodness, can fill me, finish me. 

Make that truth known to me today, Jesus. 

The One with a 31 Month Confession

Dear friends, 

I have something to confess. I have been keeping a very large corner of my heart a secret from you all for many months. I didn't know if I should share or if this was something the Lord wanted me to keep private. And so I've waited for a peace about when to open this up for all to see. 

But I haven't been able to blog, to write anything, because I feel false, like I'm hiding something. And I am. 

It has been over 2 -1/2 years (31 months to be exact) since Kevin and I have been trying to conceive. We have been unsuccessful in starting our family--a pain I didn't know I would ever experience, nor could have I comprehended. As I have started sharing more openly with friends and family the pain lessened, and I learned of friends in similar circumstances willing to stand shoulder to shoulder. No one has been unkind or pushy. Prayers are offered and some tears have been shed. Women everywhere understand the longing in our hearts to give birth to our own, to raise a child, to be called "Mother."

And so, even after sharing this struggle with many friends in our Christmas letter, it is with trepidation that I pour out my heart to all of you. 

Lord Jesus, as I begin to share my story use it to bring me freedom and to work in the heart of a friend or a stranger. All of this for you, Jesus. 

Over the next few weeks, I want to share more of our journey, how it began, where we are now, the tears that have fallen, the joy that has been granted. God is so good to us. He has been faithful to uphold us, to hide us in the shelter of his wing. He has withstood my angry cries, and offered peace. As I look back over the last 31 months, I am thankful the lessons I've learned. Most notably, contentment. 

And with that I ask you, friends, will you journey with me down this road of confusion and questions, pain and blessing? 

Tears of Passion

Have you ever been so invested in something you've been brought to tears during part of the process? 

That's what happened to me during the teen Sunday School class I co-lead. Yes, it was embarrassing, but it managed to be simultaneously empowering. I felt freed up to be myself, to be passionate, to be so deeply invested that it showed up in the ugly cry. 

Those students were blindsided with the waterworks that transpired during a normally-predictable 45 minute class. I wasn't planning it or intending it, but when my gut began churning and my heart was pounding as my mind contemplated the spiritual complacency in the room, I couldn't hold back the gates to my tears. 

Yes, teenagers, I love you guys. I love hanging out with you and hearing about your life. But my purpose is greater, deeper and far richer than that. My heart's desire is that you would know the boundless grace of Jesus Christ and submit your will unto the One who gives unbelievably good gifts to those are obediently follow his lordship.  That may sound totally overwhelming or just plain unreasonable. But it's true. And I pray my life, my heart-on-my-sleeve kind of life, would show you a glimpse of a life lived in pursuit of Jesus. 

And that you would want the same.  

My Nicknames {revealed}

What's in a name? Oh, the possibilities are endless. (Or at least they are in my family.) You see, I come from a clan of nick-namers, and oftentimes the pseudo names have no origin and no connection to the person's actual name. 

And for whatever reason, I've decided to share with you all some of the names I've been called over the years, and I'm hoping you might be up for making this a two way street. What other names have your friends and family come up with for you? Do you like them or rather the nicknames die a painful death? 

My name is Melanie, and I absolutely love it. (Good job, Mom and Dad!) I am a proponent for being known by your full first name--you know, the one on your birth certificate. None of this "I've only known you by such and such a name until that moment at high school graduation when they announce your name and I am completely unaware that that person even existed." I like that people call me Melanie. I think my name is beautiful. 

But I also like it when people get to feeling comfortable enough with me that they naturally progress into the "Mel" version of my name. I like Mel too. It's fun and relaxed sounded, very girl next door.   

My maiden name was "Fish." (If you must know, it was shortened by my great-grandpa Luigi from the original Italian of "Pescatelli" meaning "little fish.") When people find out about my maiden name they are found in utter disbelief and are convinced that I'm attempting to pull the wool scales over their eyes. And then they stifle a laugh. 

But I don't mind. I was never made fun of for my last name because I embraced it. I loved my last name. Many classmates in high school (and also my history teacher, a football coach) called me "FISH," which I was totally cool with. I was bummed I never played a sport that warranted my name on the back of a jersey. 

For whatever reason, there have always been a handful of friends--in both high school and college--who loved calling me by my first AND last name, as if they were one cohesive unit. And I have to admit, it does kind of roll of the tongue. "MelanieFish" (or, if you're Sarah Lane, "MelFish"). One of my guy friends in college also enjoyed calling me, "Miss Fish" and we were both sad when I became a "Mrs" and that name no longer applied. 

My aunts have always called me by my first and middle names--Melanie Marie. Again, the combination flows from the lips in a lovely fashion. 

My dad used to always call me Mellie, as did a few friends in elementary school. I like "Mellie." I think it's adorable. 

My mom and my grandma have, for as long as I can remember, called me "Melanee-nee" and my Grams is the only person on the face of this planet whom I allow to call me me "Nee Nee." (I love that she calls me Nee Nee.)

Little kids often have trouble pronouncing my name so it ends up sounding like "Meny" or "Noni" (if your Jillian). As a grown up, I find many kids referring to me as "Miss Melanie" which is pretty cute too. It has a nice ring of respect and familiarity. 

One boy in my 4th grade class took to calling me "MelonHead" which I totally despised and was embarrassed about. He finally got in big trouble for it. 

I've also heard Mel Bell, Mellie Belly (not my favorite), Fishy Girl (by Kevin), mon frere ("My brother" in French, by my sister--yes, we're weird), Madeleine (my name in French class--pronounced "Mad-a len"), Poisson (by a classmate in French class, it means "Fish"), Bees (by my husband, as a reference to my Pam Beasley similarities), and "Ralph" (by a developmentally disabled friend in Michigan who couldn't seem to pronounce my name. So I just went by "Ralph.")

I know there are more I have missed, but that's the general history of Melanie's nicknames. 

Your Turn! 

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Exchanging Sleep for Youth Min

People who choose to work with teenagers are a special breed.

People who claim to love their work with teenagers? Well that's just unbelievable to most.

And people who love working with teenagers and do it for FREE? Well, I'll let you draw your own conclusions. 

I am cross-my-heart-honest when I say I am one of those crazies. I love teenagers, specifically of the female  variety. My heart connects with theirs. They trust me. We laugh a lot. We act completely ridiculous and become the recipients of many a raised-eyebrow by adults who are much more cultured than I. 

But I'm ok with all of that.

Overnighters are one of the inevitable events that crops up after the teens are comfortable enough to WANT to spend the night with their friends with YOU in charge. It just screams group bonding!! and is a good time waiting to happen. 

But I've got to be honest--sleepovers are my least favorite part of youth ministry. Why? Well, mostly the lack of sleep. I function off of a full 8 hours and nothing less, and I can all but promise you there won't be 8 hours of sleep to be had when you get a bunch of teenage girls in a room with tons of snack foods, nail polish, and the ever-present girl talk. 

And yet, I chose to arrange this sleepover...yes ME. I was hoping and praying the bonding and laughing and girl talking that would go on would far outweigh the lack of sleep and the overeating. 

 

I was right. A whole gaggle of girls ages 12-17 filled the youth room and we had a wonderful time together. Only 5 of the 13 hours together were spent sleeping, but that was ok. I had time to nap for 2 hours later in the day. 

Relationships with these girls is worth the sacrifice of sleep. 

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The One with a Moments of Motherly Advice

I'm convinced. No matter how old you get or how much experience you attain, there will always come a time when you just need your mom. The growing-up thing means she probably won't always be able to be there beside you, holding your head in her lap, stroking your back and whispering words of peace. But she will always be there. And you'll never be too old to need her.  

The One with the 10 Week Whirlwind

Wondering where I've been this summer? Me too. It's been a busy one, but I'm hoping it's going to...

....nope. Not even gonna say it. I don't want to jinx myself. ;) 

It all started in May. 

the 17th-19th, we were in Michigan for my brother-in-law's high school graduation party.  

the 24th-26th, Kevin and I headed to Sandusky for our anniversary camping/Tigers' game/Cedar Point trip. 

June 1st and 2nd, we went an hour south to the annual Bible Quizzing conference campout. 

the 9th was the Strawberry Festival weekend, including my 5k race. 

the 16th was the community Book Brigade, my dad arrived for an overnight visit, and I hosted my first ever piano studio recital. 

June 24th we had a youth group pool party, and 

June 25th-July 2nd we were out on the west coast for Bible Quiz Finals in Seattle. 

July 5th and 6th, I helped a friend put on her super huge garage sale, and on the 7th, Kevin's aunt and uncle (and family) from Indiana arrived and we shared dinner and dessert together. 

the 9th-13th, we were busy busy busy working at our church VBS from 8-12 every morning (plus squeezing in a student soccer game, 2 board meetings--Kevin, and having 7 teen girls over for an afternoon.) 

July 15th, I babysat our wonderful friends' 4 children, so the adults could take their parents out to a 50th anniversary celebration dinner. 

the 17th I started my summer session of piano lessons, and at noon we left on a 7 hour (turned 9 hour) drive to Michigan for Family Camp. 

After 9 hours in an 97 degree (or hotter) car with no air conditioning (I kept a surprisingly good attitude for most of the trip--*ahem* considering the circumstances), we set up camp at 9pm and fell into bed. We spent the next 3 days enjoying time with family and friends, recounting stories of our transition to New York, and working with the teen program. 

This morning at 7am, we piled everything back into our little Civic for another 9 hour drive home. This time, however, the weather was wonderfully pleasant, and we squeezed in a shopping/sampling/lunch stop Sam's Club on the way home. 

We've got a few more important events on the docket for the next month, but I just wanted to officially congratulate us on successfully getting through the 10 weeks of crazy/awesome/business. 

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How's your summer been? Are you busier than ever or enjoying the break in routine?

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The One with a Weakness, Revealed

Even a pastor and his wife have their moments of weakness, right? (oh please tell me I'm right.) 

Sometimes...

we get lost on trips and tension runs high. 

we think I've lost my iPod and I start freaking out. 

we bicker. 

we disagree on the right course of action or discipline. 

we treat other with less than the utmost respect. 

...a group of teens witness all of this because they're stuck with us for a week. Maybe it shakes their faith in us a little bit. But prayerfully, it shows them that we are real people who make mistakes, get frustrated, lose our way, and let our emotions get the best of us. We're in ministry, in the fishbowl of a leadership position, but that doesn't mean we're perfect. It just means we know things can still be "ok" in the end, thanks to God's blanket of forgiveness. Those moments were embarrassing, not to mention wrong, and I'm not proud of them.

But love covers over a multitude of sin. And I'm thankful that God is love. 

The One with a Personal Strawberry Race

Albion Free Methodist Run for God Group

This morning I ran my second 5k race--the Albion Strawberry Festival 5k--alongside 30 other green-shirted Run for God runners from our church and community. It was an exhilarating experience to be a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than a race. This group had trained together, learned from each other, broken through barriers alongside  one another. This race was the culmination of 12 weeks together. 

Praying together before the race and watching each runner cross the finish line was incredibly moving. I was nearly in tears as I cheered on one runner after another, a part of our larger body. God is so good. 

getting ready at the starting line with Brendan beside me.

In addition to the great cause of the race (CareNet crisis pregnancy center), and the Run for God victories, I had a few momentous achievements for myself. Ten years ago I never would have thought I'd one day be a runner. I was always clumsy, slow, and a tad bit chubby (just being honest.) I classified myself as "unathletic" for 25 years. I started running on my own in college--2005--but it wasn't until this past year that I began to see myself as an athlete. I thank God for the new found abilities I've discovered. May He be glorified as I keep my body--His Temple--in shape and in good working order. 

Right now, I am so thrilled (and a little nauseous, to be quite honest.) I blew my previous PR (personal record) out of the water with a time of 23:49!! That's a 7:41 mile pace (I had only ever run at an 8:12 pace in the past.)*

*If you don't have running knowledge or experience, the average person runs 3.1 miles (a 5k) in 30 minutes or at a 10 minute/mile. 

The one mishap (or possible "badge of honor" if you'd like to see it that way), was the vomiting. Yes, I threw up. Four times. On the final stretch, with the finish line in my sights and the announcer (a church friend) calling my name in front of the cheering crowd I felt the most unavoidable reflex occurring in my throat. I tried so hard to stop it. The first time, I subtly shook it off. (Don't ask.) The second time, just as I heard my friend, Karen, yell, "GO, MEL!!!" there it came. Gross. It was all I could do to make it to the finish line. Another friend, Diane, was eagerly waving me onward as she waited at the finish to snatch my number and clock my time. "You can do this!" her face said. And I ran to her with renewed motivation. In the nick of time, she tore off my number and I charged toward a trash can, retching again. 

Once I had time to recover from that experience and walk back to the cheering section, I was starting to feel oddly proud of my vomit experience. And apparently rightly so--I had at least 3 seasoned runners tell me that throwing up comes with the pushing-yourself-to-the-limit efforts. Alright. I'll take that badge of honor. 

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Here's a few photos from the finishing area. You can vaguely see the distraught expression on my face in picture #1 and the second photo has Diane eagerly waving me forward (along with my 23:49 displayed on the clock. (I completely missed that huge digital clock as I was approaching. Totally oblivious.)

Thanks, Diane. I seriously think I would have stopped running if it weren't for you.

Later in the race, as finishers continued to poor in, other Run for God folks started encouraging the runners by running that last stretch with them. As I saw Sara (a friend, church goer, and piano student's parent) coming up the road, I ran out to her and encouraged her to finish. It was exhilarating for me to be beside a first time runner. 

Sara and Me

A few more Run for God people with Brian--a leader--helping them cross the finish line.

As we meandered over to the Awards Ceremony, someone ran up to me and said, "Melanie! You won!" I checked out the Winners Board and there was my name and my time--in first place of the 20-29 year old Females. I've never been so excited!!

Then, when I saw this Overall Finishers List, I was thrilled all over again--

19th Place out of 150 runners.

2nd Female Finisher by 39 seconds. 

Those are stats I am so proud of and completely overwhelmed to claim as my own. This afternoon, as I was recalling the day with my husband, tears streamed down my face when I described this experience. I have never felt so proud of something I've done, something I've worked so hard for, a gift only God could have given--and that I didn't even know I had. Running isn't a natural inclination for me. It is something I've learned to love, an exercise I enjoy, time to meditate and pray, the opportunity to push to the limit and compete with my own abilities. 

Glory be to God for these gifts.